Fable II - King Of Hearts
by LJReaver98
Summary: Albion's days are near numbered. Sparrow must help her kingdom from a new threat but why ally with a pirate king?
1. Chapter One

Fable II

KING OF HEARTS - Part I

"Roll up, roll up!" The streets of Bowerstone Market were bustling with people. Men, women and children from all over Albion had gathered on the market road leading to the majestic Bowerstone Castle.

"C'mon, C'mall! See the efforts of Albion's finest noblemen try 'n' win 'er majesty's 'art!"

* * *

Sparrow looked out of the windows of the throne room. Her eyes weighed down by the sight of horses and carriages. "Next one in a minute, get ready!" Sparrows head turned to see Hammer walk through the large, mahogany doors. Her great war hammer rested on her bulky shoulder.

"You know, for the Hero of Strength, you really are weak minded!" Sparrow laughed as she raised an eyebrow to her friend.

"You asked for a matchmaker, so here I am!"

Sparrow laughed again. Some of the men who had made their way to Bowerstone were agreeable enough, but Sparrow was not convinced. '_Hammer's ideas should be kept where they belong: in the back of her mind' _She thought.

* * *

The courtyard fell silent as another carriage arrived; dark, varnished wood gleamed against the sun and was lined with gold and drawn by two black stallions. A perfectly crafted 'R' lay decoratively on the door. The gardeners and noblemen stared; unable to look away from the carriage of the thief.

A tall, well-groomed man exited the carriage. He stood, surveying the courtyard. No one dared speak, no one dared move. Finally one man approached.

"What a pleasure to see you," the gardener cowered as he spoke and bowed shakily, "Master Reaver." He backed away as quickly as he spoke. Reaver ignored him and walked on towards the marble steps of Bowerstone Castle; passing countless men and noblemen awaiting access to the throne room.

"Master Reaver," a man stepped forwards. "I'm afraid the Queen is busy, if you'd care to-" the words of the doorman were cut short by the distinct, ringing shot of a Dragonstomper.48. He fell to the floor. Reaver stepped over his body and proceeded through the door. No one dared oppose him, or maybe because no one could. Reaver's reputation was a cold one; spread from Bloodstone to Bowerstone. The Hero of Skill was feared by all.

* * *

Sparrow jumped as the doors of the throne room flung open as Reaver strolled in. Alarmed, Hammer drew her weapon; however as soon as she had a single bullet ricocheted her ringed fingers. Reaver stood at the end of the room. He blew the barrel of his pistol. A single, perfect eyebrow raised above his eye. His mouth, curled into an unsettling smile.

Hammer stared coolly at him. Reaver continued towards the Queen. He stopped before the throne and bowed. "You're Majesty"

There was a moment's pause. Sparrow raised an eyebrow to the man as he presented himself to her. His posture returned and he stood awaiting the queen's word.

"Reaver," Sparrow started. "You better have good reason for your actions, and…intrusion." She continued. Her eyes fell down as she watched him. She felt uncomfortable in the presence of such an unpredictable man.

"My lady, I heard there was word of an audience with your grace." Reaver began. "With this audience – your judgment on marriage followed." He approached Sparrow and leant on the arm of the throne, whispering into her ear. "And I don't think I need explain, when I say you really ought to send these men home." She turned to look at him, his eyes were dark; he winked at her.

Sparrow stood and glared up at Reaver's smug face. Hammer stepped forward but Sparrow waved a hand for her to stand down. She gritted her teeth and obeyed.

"I was under the impression you were in Samarkand."

"And I was, my Lady." He replied. "That was, of course, until I heard about this…opportunity." Reaver smiled at her again. "Therefore, I shall cut to the chase."

Sparrow looked into Reaver's dark blue eyes. She couldn't see what exactly was inside them; which worried her. He walked back around in front of her. He looked into her brown eyes as he knelt down. Another pause chilled the room.

"My Queen, will you marry me?"

Sparrow rolled her glassy eyes and stepped down from the foundations of her throne. Reaver was still on his knee. She could feel Hammer's cold glare towards him. Sparrow walked behind Reaver, trailing her porcelain hand over his shoulder. She knelt down beside him and whispered lightly. "No."

And as quickly as Reaver had entered, Sparrow left.

* * *

The clock tower of Bowerstone Market could be heard throughout the city as it struck another late hour. Sparrow stood on her chamber balcony. She looked out to the Castle gardens and down towards Bowerstone Harbour. She sighed, thinking about the events of her day.

_For a proposal…from Reaver, of all the men in Albion today, Reaver was the one to kneel before me and propose;._ She knew, of course, all too well, it was a scam of his for power, riches and all the glamour's of being king; and he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. However, she couldn't help but let her mind wander fondly as the summer breeze gently ran through her light brown hair.

Sparrow's eyes narrowed as a dark figure crossed the paths of the garden. She saw, once they entered the light, it was Reaver. The moonlight shone gently against the pond, his reflection danced on the dark blue ripples. He looked up to see her watching him. He bowed and smiled. Sparrow nodded then retreated back into her bed chambers.

* * *

A hallowed knock came from the door. Sparrow awoke. She pulled on her robe and called through the varnished oak. "Yes?"

"Madam, it's Jasper, Reaver has requested an audience with you in private."

Sparrow sighed.

"Shall I tell him you're unable to make arrangements?"

"No," She protested. "I'll see him in the War Room in an hour."

"As you wish madam."

* * *

Jasper opened the door to the throne room. "Madam, Master Reaver." Reaver stepped in and the door closed behind him.

"So," Sparrow started. "You requested a private audience."

"Yes, my Lady." Reaver bowed.

"Enough bowing, Reaver. If you're trying to make up for the Shadow Court incident, don't bother, I don't care."

Reaver chuckled. "No, not at all, your Majesty; I wouldn't dream of it. But as you wish."

Reaver walked towards her. She didn't move, she stood, leaning against the map. Her gaze went across the table to him. "However, I would like you to consider a proposition of mine." He said slyly. "And I refuse to take no for an answer."


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Sparrow's head was faced down towards the map; her eyes darted up to see Reaver, through the fine curled hair that fell elegantly over her forehead and down over her cheeks. Reaver stepped forward, leaning himself on the map; his arms outstretched along the murky wooden rim of the table.

"I formally request, and whole heartedly insist, that you accompany me to dinner. Tonight"

Sparrow stopped, stalling her response. She looked over to Reaver as he leant opposite her. His dark, sapphire eyes gleamed through the mat of hair that rested over his brow. "It would, of course, be a privilege of mine to have your majesty a guest in my home; not to mention a most enjoyable and…pleasurable experience."

Sparrow shuddered at the thought of what Reaver usually did to privilege and pleasure himself.

"So, my lady," He spoke again. "Would you do me such an extraordinary honour?"

There was a moments silence before Sparrow sighed; she leant her weight on her hands as she rested closer in to the map. "Give me one good reason why I should tolerate you for an evening, Reaver and you may find yourself with a dinner guest." Reaver smirked to himself. "On the other hand, however, give me a good reason to shoot you where you stand and you may find yourself rather…light headed."

Reaver's eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. "Well, aren't you a tease!" For the queen, let alone anyone, to threaten him with a firearm would be a foolish idea; Sparrow knew this all too well, however the attempted intimidation was very much sincere.

Reaver dropped his head down to the floor; his mouth curled into a smile and then he laughed softly to himself. Sparrow skimmed her view over to where he stood.

He raised himself from the rest of the wood and walked over to Sparrow, still leaning herself on the table. She didn't move; she merely observed him through a cold stare. The thief carried on, walking around to her. He stopped and leant over her shoulder from behind and whispered quietly into her ear.

"With all due respect, my dear, I think we both know you wouldn't." Reaver's voice was calm and faultless. Sparrow shivered as she exhaled. She turned her head to where Reaver leant in to her ear. She darted her eyes across, over her shoulder. He winked at her, his face barely a few centimetres from her cheek. She could feel his breath settle on the back of her neck; she winced again.

Sparrow looked back to the ornate map of Albion. "And why exactly would that be, Reaver?"

He sighed loudly. "Oh, my must we really go through this? I'm sure you know as well as I do how this is going to end, no?" He chuckled. Sparrow hung her head. Reaver took her hand from behind her and spun her around to face him. He held his other arm around the young queen's waist. Sparrow gasped quickly. She felt her heart racing under her skin, deep within her chest. She hastily buried her emotions behind a stern face, but it was too late; Reaver raised an eyebrow towards her. Sparrow turned her head away to conceal her reddening cheeks.

Slowly, she moved her gaze back to Reaver; her head still facing away from him. He smiled at her; but it wasn't his usual, disconcerting smile. The deep oceans of blue surrounding his pupils weren't as cautioning as Sparrow remembered and knew them. She turned her head back, still in Reaver's arms. Her heart skipped a beat as he winked at her again. Never before had she seen Reaver in this way. Wrapped in the warmth of his arms, Sparrow felt safe. Her stance was relaxed, unlike it had been a moment before. Reaver leant in to Sparrows lips; she breathed in shakily as he tucked her hair gently behind her ear. She watched him as he leant closer, his eyes drifted shut. Sparrow let her emotions wash over her as she leant towards him.

Their lips barely brushed together before Jasper knocked and called through the doors of the War Room. Sparrow jolted back to reality; Reaver sighed gently and stepped back, leaning his hands on the back of his waistline. Sparrow calmed her breathing and walked to the doors.

Slowly, she opened them.

"Madam, you must go to the war room this instant." Jasper stood in the doorway

Sparrow cleared her throat, "Yes, yes of course." Her voice was quiet and rushed.

Sparrow made her way hastily to the door. Reaver stepped forward and called after her, "You never answered me, your majesty!" Jasper raised an eyebrow to the informal tone the young swashbuckler had used to address his queen.

"Yes, fine!" Sparrow shouted from halfway down the extensive corridors of the castle. Contently, Reaver cleared his throat and made for the door; Jasper continued to observe him obscurely. Reaver strolled passed and out through the doors clicking his tongue and winking at Jasper as he made his leave.

* * *

Sparrow paced her bedchambers. Hammer, who was sprawled comfortably on the couch, was helping herself to wine and fruit on the table beside her.

"I dunno why said you'd go," Hammer exclaimed loudly to Sparrow from across the chamber, her mouth half filled with grapes.

Sparrow glanced over to her, biting her nails as she thought.

"I mean, Reaver helped us with the Spire, an' Lucien and all, but can you really stand that pompous, sickly face all evening?!" She continued. Hammer looked up to where Sparrow stood; she was looking out of the large, full length windows towards Silverpine forest; towards Millfields.

Sparrow sighed and leant her forehead against the cold glass. Hammer got up, walked behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Wha's wrong?" Hammer pulled Sparrow around to look at her. "Is this 'bout Reaver?"

Sparrow smiled and looked up towards her old friend. "I'm fine, Hammer, really," She paused. "I just need to find something to wear." She laughed. Hammer smiled at her.

Sparrow went behind her dressing shade to change. Hammer sat back down on the couch. She'd known Sparrow far too long to believe she was merely pondering over a dress. A few minutes passed and Sparrow returned.

She was dressed in a deep blue sleeveless dinner gown, a thick silk strap hung elegantly on both arms. Her hair was loose and in its natural soft, light curls which often fell gently over her eye.

"You look great," Hammer complimented

"I'm not used to this, I much prefer my more practical of outfits," Sparrow stated as she flattened her skirt down and smiled.

* * *

The journey to Millfields took an hour from Bowerstone Castle. Sparrow looked out of the window to the rising moon over Mistpeak. The smoke from the Dweller camps and hamlets painted a milky silver line across the darkening sky.

She looked up, over the trees to see the faint lights of Millfields through the trees. She faintly made out a few houses and manors; but, of course, Reaver's was the most extravagant.

"Nearly there, ma'am," The carriage driver called through to Sparrow; she didn't reply. The road was shrouded with mist; the shadowy howl of a Balverine chilled the air.

Sparrow could no longer see the twinkling lights of Millfields. She watched her breath cloud before her as she exhaled gradually, rubbing her hands together as they numbed in the cold. Her mind grew restless and she soon found herself wondering of the evening that awaited her in Reaver's mansion; for his company was an unflavoured one. And after what nearly happened in the War Room she wondered if this was a good idea.

The carriage trundled down the worn, dusty cobbles. The night air was silent save the echoing trot of the horses.

A low, prolonged grunt left the carriage driver, then a loud cry. Sparrow bolted upright, no longer resting her head upon the carriage door. Her hands clenched the soft, cushioned seats as the carriage rocked violently. Howls of Balverines could be heard all around her; another large force struck the carriage, hammering it harshly against the dense forest floor.

Glass shattered from the delicate window pane; Sparrow collided against the cold wooden door, her vision blurred as she tried to get up. Screams of the footman and driver rang through Sparrows ears; she collapsed under her weight as she hauled herself up. Broken glass pierced her skin like a wasp.

Another force pushed brutally on the carriage knocking Sparrow back against the broken window pane, she grunted in pain. Her hands and arms were slashed and engraved with shards of glass, now painted a deep red from her blood. A warm trickling sensation fell down the side of her face, over her temple. Sparrow lay back; a tear joined the blood running across her face. Confusion drowned her mind; separating it from the pain. She feared what would happen; but, surprisingly, not her death.

The screaming died slowly as her vision dimmed. She did not know whether it was from her fading consciousness or if the men had been devoured. Either way, sleep gracefully engulfed her.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

* * *

A loud snapping branch and the crunching leaves stirred Sparrow. Her head felt bruised and her memory was hazy. Another rustling of leaves caught her attention. The air was crisp, dew droplets had beaded against the leaves of the shrubbery masking the carriage. Sparrow's skin was cold to her touch, but the burning of the glass still dug deep within her skin. Carefully, she raised herself from the forest floor. The broken glass and blood covered the dirt and dusty leaves carpeting where she had fallen.

The sharp crunching of the undergrowth caught Sparrow's ears again. Her head turned quickly towards the disturbance; Balverines. Her hand slowly reached for the holster under her skirt; slowly, she drew her pistol. The hammer clicked quietly as she pulled it back. Her intentions for the use of her firearm weren't exactly what she thought would happen a few hours ago, but something told her she'd been out cold longer than that.

She tried to get up – her deep blue dress caught against the floor. She sighed quietly with impatience and ripped her skirt across her legs. Carelessly, she disregarded the silken fabric and focused back on the approaching threat. The noise came again. It came from behind her, it had moved around. Her eyes squinted through the thick black abyss of the forest. Nothing was there.

Slowly, she gathered her physical strength and pushed herself out of the capsized carriage. Her finger rested lightly on the trigger of her ornate pistol. A dark figure rustled through the bushes. Sparrow winced at the ghostly figure; backing away from the scene. Her eyes found the corpses of the two men who'd accompanied her to the forest. She held her hand up to her face as she nearly gasped at the sight of their half-eaten, mutilated corpses.

Sparrow clenched a fist over her chest. Her attention drew once more to the figure opposite her; the cloaked figure seemed to be levitating above the forest floor. She raised her weapon as she steadied her arm. The figure came through the trees, into the light. Sparrow stepped back into the shadows of the trees. She could see now, it was a Banshee. She lowered her pistol for attacking a Banshee was foolish; it clearly hadn't seen her yet. However she wasn't going to stick around until it had.

She turned and walked on through the forest. Then a thought dawned on her, '_If I heard footsteps, that meant there was somebody walking through the undergrowth…it can't have been the Banshee…' _Cold fear crept through Sparrow, rippling through her like ice. She shuddered; wondering how many creatures were in these woods. Balverines, bandits, Hobbes, Banshee's, Gnomes…her mind wondered on as she walked on cautiously.

The howl of a Balverine stopped Sparrow where she stood. She turned to see what was there, but there was nothing. Her whole body spun around to get a better survey of her surroundings. A moments silence made her feel a slight unrest in her stomach. There was a Balverine out there, and it wouldn't be alone.

A single shot fired out. A loud howling yelp came from the dark shadows surrounding Sparrow; her fingers wrapped tightly around her pistol.

The crunching of the undergrowth returned; Sparrow held her breath. It got closer. She closed her eyes; trembling at the thought of being ripped apart with no means of fighting back against a pack of ravenous Balverines.

It grew ever closer, each step made her feel more and more trapped and fixed to the floor. Her breath shook, clenching her fists as a low snarl rumbled in her ears. Defenceless, other than the pistol clenched in her hand, Sparrow slowly shifted her eyes to the rustling monster lurking in the darkness. Her head turned to see a White Balverine; its repulsive mass stood merely a few feet from where her. Its wet snout snorted repeatedly towards her, a large gash on the end of its nose made Sparrow believe it probably had poor sense of smell; lucky for her, it appeared to be blind in one eye, and a distinctive wound upon the other. Sparrow leaned in closer, to inspect the wound – a glint of metal shone against the thin rays of moonlight escaping from the canopy. The Balverine had been shot.

Sparrow jumped as the crushing forest floor came once again; however the Balverine did not move. Her mind stopped. She wondered how many others there must be. White Balverines were pack leaders, there may, very well, be more. A lump formed in her throat as she tried not to breathe excessively; the sound came again. Sparrow turned quickly, snapping a large branch under her foot.

The Balverine stirred quick as a flash; a horse roar thundered through the night. It's ragged white claws raised above her head, tufts of off white and silver fur sprouted from its thick, worn skin. Sparrow raised her only weapon; her thumb drew the hammer back like a viper making for its prey. She aimed it to the beasts face.

The bellowing shot rang loudly. Ghastly shouts of pain ripped through the Balverines throat; as it fell back. Sparrow's face furrowed. She looked down to her revolver; fully loaded. A shaking breath escaped her mouth. Swallowing, she went to turn around; to face the other presence behind her.

The revolver pointed outward as she spun. Reaver stood conceitedly with his hands in the air, arching a brow. A mocking, playful smile twisted the corners of his mouth.

Sparrow sighed with relief.

"So uncivilized " Reaver chuckled, lowering his arms. He placed his Dragonstomper.48 back in his holster as he spoke. Sparrow lowered her revolver also, relief spread through her from seeing a familiar face; however the trees and mists surrounding were still chilling.

Balverine howls echoed once more. They were closer.

"We must leave," Reaver walked rapidly towards Sparrow and took her hand in his. The glass shards prickled as he gripped her, though she found his gloved hand warm against her torn skin. She followed him through the dense foliage. They didn't stop until the lights of Millfields were visible between the dark mess of trees and shrubbery.

Reaver led Sparrow towards a small shoreline of fresh water. She could only presume it was Bower Lake. Her hands were led towards the cool waves; Reaver stroked her pierced skin under the water. A soft sigh escaped his lips. He reached out of the water and removed his gloves. Reaching back to help Sparrow; she looked up, watching him as he gently rubbed the damage done to her.

He wiped away the last of the glass from her hands; they still stung but were in a better state than before. Her skin was red and cracked in places but still smooth. Nothing was said between the two as Reaver continued to caress her hands softly; cupping his hands over hers as he did so.

He sighed again; Sparrows eyes darted up to him. "Is something wrong?" The silence broke as she asked. Shaking his head in response he pulled away from her. He dried his hands carelessly against his clothes, odd behaviour for a man of self-conceited views on fashion. Sparrow raised an eyebrow to his thoughtless acts towards his clothing; grasping a hand to her forehead in pain after remembering the large gash on her head. Her nail scratched against the slow healing skin. Blood warmed her fingers; pulling her hand away to inspect her red stained hands.

Reaver was too busy to notice her; he pulled a small rowing boat away from the lakeside grass; gesturing towards it as he offered Sparrow his hand. She followed him without question away from the unknown woodlands that lurked mysteriously behind her shrouding its beasts in a cloud of fog.

Reaver rowed the small boat across the crystal blue waters of Bower Lake. Sparrow leaned over to trail her hand lightly in the cool waters; it soothed her burning skin. Ripples of reflected moonlight danced around the water as the oars turned rhythmically. Reaver cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger silence within the forests, my lady." He smiled at her kindly as she turned her head to face him.

"Why were you in the forest?" Sparrow narrowed her eyes towards him. Reaver laughed softly in his throat, looking down towards Sparrow's torn skirt. "When I waited several hours for your arrival I assumed there was a problem." He paused, glancing over to her as he continued to row. "Of course," He coughed, "For a moment when I found the carriage I feared the worst. The kingdom to be left to a democracy is a maddening thought!" He chuckled. The smile faded from his lips once he noticed she was no longer paying much attention.

Annoyance spread through Sparrow's veins like wildfire; she could of handled the bandits or Balverines, or whatever it had been to ambush her carriage. If she had been better prepared; with more weapons then she wouldn't have had such a problem. "You know," Reaver's smooth voice interrupted her maddened wondering. "You mustn't be annoyed with your inability to fight back; use of Will would have signed your death warrant. You had no melee option and to use a pistol would have damaged your hands even more. There's no need to feel so…irritated"

Sparrow darted him a cold look through sharp eyes.

"You cannot deny to me that is not the problem, my dear, for I have known you long enough." His brow curved slightly as he spoke. Somehow; his words calmed Sparrow, though she refused to show it. "You scarcely know me, Reaver. That is all we must establish here and now. Not what has happened, or what might; but the here and now. That is all that matters." She stated, turning her head once again away from the pirate.

Nothing was said in response. The boat came to the shore of Millfields. A large manor stood on the banks of the lake. Reaver stood, exiting the rowboat, he offered Sparrow a hand; helping her ashore. The two walked towards the mansion.

"It's very quiet," Sparrow stated as the lit windows interior were lifeless.

"Yes," He replied, his arm around the young queen. "I gave most staff the evening off; other than those in the kitchens, of course."

The candles within the manor shone against the polished glass windows. Stone carvings decorated the doorway as she entered through the large mahogany doors. Reaver's décor, to say the least, was the epitome of narcissism. Portraits and sculptures littered the walls and room corners of the entrance hall. A large decorative staircase greeted her through the entrance. A loud click came from the locking door.

The hall stretched on, the ceiling was decoratively patterned; this was obviously intended for balls or other social occasions she thought to herself. Reaver closed the door as he placed his Dragonstomper back inside its holster; strapped to his thigh. He dragged his hand through the perfect ebony waves of his hair and sighed loudly, a serious look fell across his face.

He slowly walked up to Sparrow, hand still placed on his head; he ran it down leisurely as he approached and smiled.

"Listen, why don't you draw yourself a bath in the guest suit?"

Sparrow raised a disapproving eyebrow. Reaver chuckled in response. "I give you my word, your majesty. I wouldn't dare interfere with the privacy of a royal; a downtown whore would be more fitting. Seeing as you are not, I shall give you a gentleman's word of honour," He bowed graciously. "That you will have no worries whatsoever; there will be clothes available should you wish to use them; men and women's attire within the wardrobe." He stood and raised an arm towards the staircase.

Sparrow didn't see much point in refusing the offer. If Reaver went back on his word it'd give her an excuse to shoot him. She passed him coolly and ascended the grand staircase. "Third door on the left, my lady!" Reaver called after her as she disappeared through the doorway.

He waited a minute before collapsing onto a nearby couch. He sighed and buried his head in his hands.

* * *

The water swallowed Sparrow's body as she sunk into the warm foaming bathtub. A long sigh of relief left her as her muscles relaxed and her skin smoothed its pain. She spent what felt like hours washing herself in the large, baroque bath. A decorative log fire warmed the room perfectly soothing Sparrow's mind from all problems.


End file.
